Silent Offering
by ellibobelli
Summary: Sweet one-shot. “Jasper Whitlock,” she finally murmured, in a far-away, but warm, voice that was all too similar to tinkling bells. “You’ve kept me waiting a long time,”


The diner was nearly empty and that could be blamed on the ruthless weather outside. Chilling claps of thunder echoed powerfully in the distance, keeping time with the steady downpour, and streaks of bright lightning colored the sky with twisted lines of silver. I took comfort in the thunderous storm, however, grateful that something was finally loud enough to drown out my own bitter thoughts. The dim lights of the quaint restaurant flickered and I stared absently into the cold mug of black coffee that I had ordered hours ago, resting my head against my palm. Thick, golden strands of hair interrupted my vision. I didn't bother to brush them out of the way.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?" the young waitress asked. I looked up, my gaze sleepy and haunting, and sighed.

"A new cup of coffee would be nice, I guess," I murmured as I pushed the old mug away from me. It scratched against the stained counter and drops of coffee spilled over the edge. The waitress nodded silently and wiped up the spilled liquid quickly before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a steaming cup and set it down beside me. I muttered a quiet thank you.

"You know, diners are often a great place to let everything out. I once had a guy come in here and admit to killing his girlfriend after downing five cups of coffee. No doubt he was hung-over." I glanced back up at the waitress – Alice, her nametag read in bold letters - and raised my eyebrows. "I called the cops, of course. Anyway. Is there _anything_ that I can do to help your, um, obvious depression? I'm a great listener and advice-giver." The dark-haired girl sat down on an invisible chair behind the counter and rested her chin on the cool countertop.

I smiled for the first time in what seemed like years. My lips were dry and cracked and it was an almost painful experience, but the bubbly personality of the waitress was hard to frown upon. "Thanks, ma'am, but I'm okay to wallow in my own self-pity alone."

She giggled, a light and free sound that seemed to ease up half of all the tension in my body. "You're not alone, Sir. You've got that wonderfully brewed cup of coffee with you."

My smile widened against my will. "I suppose you're right,"

"See, it can't be that bad. Are you gonna tell me what's got you so down? It's just you and me and this very irritating storm."

"And this wonderfully brewed cup of coffee," I chuckled stiffly and took a small sip, inevitably burning my tongue. I winced as the fiery pain cooled away slowly. "Which is still really hot."

Alice gasped and jerked her head up. Her short hair flew around her like a dark halo. "Oh, I'm sorry! I wasn't really expecting you to drink it, honestly. I mean, it's not like you drank the last one, right? Just stared and stared at it, like you were glaring it to its immediate death…"

"Unfortunately, Miss, I don't think that coffee can die, otherwise I'm sure I would have killed many more cups of it than just that one by now." Alice stayed quiet for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing her warm features. I didn't notice until then how beautiful she was – her hair was darker than the black sky of the storm, chopped short and spiked, and she had bright, exciting eyes that were an eerie shade of silver. She was very petite, no more than five feet tall, and all her features reflected that tininess. She was just as pale as I was, rivaling the glowing moon.

"Jasper Whitlock," she finally murmured, in a far-away, but warm, voice that was all too similar to tinkling bells. "You've kept me waiting a long time,"

Confused that she knew my name and confused about what she said, I ducked my head sheepishly and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Alice smiled and walked around to my side of the counter, her brilliant eyes never leaving mine. I hesitantly stood up as she neared me, and when she finally reached me, she unfalteringly held out her hand. And to my surprise, I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing. My blistered and callused hand engulfed her small one as our fingers tangled together. An almost electric shock ran up my arm and coursed, sizzling, through my body. Alice smiled and all the pain of war, of death, melted away. For the first time in years, I felt hope.

"I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to come at all," She said, teasingly. I shook my head, oblivious to what she was trying to say. Alice began dragging me out of the diner then and into the downpour, as if me taking her hand had been a silent offering to leave. I didn't mind, though. Not in the least.

**xxx**

**I hope you enjoyed it! Review, if you want. :)**


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